Anything For You Regrettable as it is
by SomethingI'veForgotten
Summary: Warnings first: AU, shounen ai, unbeta'ed, swearing?, violence, a regretable total revision over places and situations and people.... To settle a war, a prince and a King must wed. However, the King was kinda expecting a PRINCESS....
1. Chapter 1: Caged Bird Sings

**A/N**: Well, well, it appears as though I've actually decided to write another (and chaptered, my how frightening!) story...I may continue on a random whim sooo...yeah. -coughs- I'm sorry if I disappoint anyone by rearing my ugly work so randomly like this and...egh. Once more, all criticism accepted, flames too, as I usually don't tend to write AU'ish things but this story just jumped me after looking at five hundred too many fanarts. XD; So, uh, usual warnings? AU, shounen ai, future crack...

**Disclaimers**: It pains me more than you'd know to admit I don't own a single scrap of Kyou Kara Maou. -throws another temper tantrum-

If he closed his eyes and breathed in deep, he could almost smell the acrid smoke of war.

Wolfram von Bielefelt stood on the balcony overlooking the gardens, and past that, the city. If he squinted, he could even make out the war brewing at the borders, just make out the smudge of oily gray that signaled the fires sure to be raging there. With his eyes closed, Wolfram could picture himself there. He could imagine the glint of steel in firelight, his sword dripping with the blood of his enemies, weaving between the cracks of armor. He could feel the blast of heat from his element as it shot from his fingertips, hear the pained screams and agonized squeals of the dying, smell burning flesh mingle with fresh blood. He could smell the smoke, feel it in his lungs, choking, suffocating. It was thrilling. It was revolting. It had to be done.

With his eyes closed one more second, he could pretend he was there for another hour, doing battle. Sir Weller was sure not to be far off, he could hear the man's voice - normally so gentle and smooth - now hoarse from barking out commands, scorched by the battle. The ground would be slick with blood, and Wolfram could feel the ache of exertion in his bones. His muscles screamed in protest with every slash, every parry numbed his hands, his incantation for his majutsu drained him more and more of his energies, sounding dull when they came from his cracked lips. The wind would be heavy with death and...

...And not so cold, not so refreshing as it was now. The prince slowly opened his eyes, a frown touching his lips. The battleground is where he _should_ be. But it wasn't where he was.

Wolfram von Bielefelt was, after all, the third and essentially useless son of the current Queen, Cecilie von Spitzweg. Her oldest son had taken on all the responsibilities required of a good ambassador and statesman. After all, Gwendel von Voltaire had all the tact and determination to handle tedious negotiations. Conrad Weller, the half-human son, had the experience to be the soldier. He had the comradeship that brought and held men together; he had the war tactics and the skill to wield his sword expertly and mercilessly. Wolfram had no desire to follow after his oldest brother, after all, it was clear the blonde who took after his mother was as impatient a boy as there ever was. Couple this with the youngest prince's fiery temper and you were just begging for another war with the demons to rise. Secretly, Wolfram had always wanted to follow his second oldest brother's footsteps. He wanted to be there in the midst of battle too. He wanted to carve his name in history with his steel, and win glory. Simply, he lacked the experience. No – he was _robbed_ of it.

Instead, the Fallen Angel prince was confined to his mother's castle, kept behind doors and given excuses. He watched ambassadors from the enemy come and go, watched the wrinkles on his oldest brother's forehead multiply, watched the women of the castle sob and sigh, constantly distancing themselves from reality. He could see it in all their eyes. They all wanted this to be over with, all wanted it to go away. He wondered why they wouldn't just let _him_ go and end it. Surely his help would be needed out there, in the frontlines. Wolfram was confident, after all, that he could stop the war himself if they'd only give him a chance to be out there. Surely after the Third Prince dealt his justice and proved to the demons and to his own people that _he_ could be a far worse nightmare than anything ever dreamed, they'd certainly give in and beg for peace. Nothing could stand against the wrath of Wolfram von Bielefelt, after all. Especially since their precious Demon King resided in another world, to escape the war.

Behind him, there was a knock at his bedroom doors. The blonde considered not answering, pondered the perks of ignoring the summons. He also considered the punishments, and shuddered inwardly at the look and disappointment in store for him from Gwendel. Even worse, would be the sigh to escape Sir Weller's lips when he returned and heard of the youngest son's insolence. Sir Weller was sure to give the boy a thorough talking of the importance of obeying orders, and proceed to rub salt into his wounded pride by including somewhere in the lecture why this was a reason he was not permitted into the war. The pure white feathers on his wings bristled at the thought.

"_Bull shit,_" was all he could push past his tightly pursed lips, before turning on his heel to answer the door. Storming past the lavish bed, past the desk where piles of notes in messy handwritings and books of all sorts gathered dust. When he got to the ornate wooden doors - polished to a sheen that it almost could act as a replacement mirror - he pulled them opened and shot the soldier in the doorway a look laden with scorn, and issued a growl worthy of any lion, "What?"

The soldier had gotten far too used to the petulant teen to pay any more attention to his fits. Rather, the heavily armored man straightened himself in the proper way demanded by protocol, and saluted. In a clipped voice that spoke of years and years of more training than the teen he was addressing, he made the announcement that Wolfram's presence was requested in the war council room. Even stranger, Gwendel himself had issued the order. The blonde's grip tightened on the brass handles of the doors, brow furrowing as he gave himself to thought. He doubted Gwendel would've finally caved into his demands of being sent to the war. He also highly doubted his war tactics were any more wanted than a commoner's was, especially with Gunter around. Those two could conjure up plans for victory that were near flawless. Then what could he have possibly done to merit this summons?

"Uh...Sir von Bielefelt...?"

The blonde shook his head, erasing his thoughts. "I'm going." Came his curt reply, and in moments he had stepped out, past the guard, and was striding down the halls. His mind was roiling with ideas, wondering over the purpose of this. Thoughts bounced in his head, making him almost miss the place he was to rendezvous. Almost. His feet seemed to stop of their own accord when he nearly passed the door, making him have to back track a little. The prince stood before the rich mahogany doors, suddenly dreading them. Something about this did not sit right with him. Something in his gut twisted and writhed, making him feel a slight bit sick, as though he were on a boat...

Then he shook it off and set his face in a scowl. There was nothing to fear, this nervousness was ridiculous. There was no point in stalling, no need for these queasy tensions in the pit of his gut. His hand moved to take the handle, and he breathed in deep. The castle smelled of faint mildew, masked heavily with perfumes of meadows. It was pointless. The meadows were probably now totally up churned, the grass burned to their roots. The animals had fled, and the only feet to pass through were those of the soldier marching to war, trampling and killing, blood stuck to the bottom of their boots. He'd rather his mother burn incense more suited to their situation, burn some grass or animal flesh. It'd be a more suitable reminder to everyone about the world they lived in. Then he pulled; stepping back as the doors opened, and steeled himself for what would happen...

To his surprise, there wasn't much. Gwendel sat at the head of the long table, elbows on the table; fingers interlaced to hammock his chin. His stern blue eyes betray no emotion, and his permanent frown was neither harsher nor lighter than normal. His wings were folded neatly, and nothing about his hunched stance alerted Wolfram as to the reason for neither his summons nor his unsteady feelings. To Gwendel's left sat a man - someone Wolfram had never seen before. He was youngish - perhaps Conrad's age - and had dark hair. He was a demon, Wolfram could tell right off the bat. He lacked the formal wings of Fallen Angels, and his hair was far too dark to be considered one of them. Glasses perched at the end of his elegant nose; his blue-purple eyes were as serious as Gwendel's. He was dressed in formal clothing of a rich blue color, far darker than Wolfram's own blue uniform. The suit - formal as it was - seemed simple, the only part really standing out on the handsome man was the elaborate golden decoration at the collar and sleeve hems. Gunter stood behind Gwendel, a faint smile on his face. That should've worried the blonde prince...it was an inkling as to something had gone in their favor, but what had it to deal with Wolfram? The prince could only march in and stand at attention at the very end of the table.

"This is Shouri Shibuya," Gwendel began, indicating with a flick of his eyes that he was referring to the single ambassador to his side. Wolfram nodded curtly, giving a small bow to the guest in greeting. He did not dip lower than necessary - Wolfram would not bend to a foreigner's will. Especially the will of an enemy. With a cough showing Gwendel didn't quite approve of the disrespect, he continued, as if to rub into the prince's ignorant face his mistake. "He's the Demon King's elder brother." If Gwendel expected him to gasp or to pale, he was sorely disappointed. The statement was met with a mere raising of elegant blonde eyebrows, and the ambassador gave a soft cough, his eyes sliding to look at Gwendel. Gwendel carried on as though he hadn't seen the action. "We have spent three days and two night negotiating, Wolfram, and have finally come to an alliance..."

Wolfram was growing impatient with these talks. Yes, so what if Gwendel had finally brought peace and ended the war? What was he thinking to summon him down here just to inform him of _that_ when he could very well just mention it in passing at the dinner table? Wolfram would admit, he slightly resented the fact that war had come to an end without him lending a hand, but at the same time, a small part of him rejoiced. There would be no more death on their sides, no more names read off lists growing longer and longer, no more body counts. They could call this uneasy truce, and life would... "Forgive me, Brother Gwendel, but if that is all you have to say, then allow me to tell you congratulations and be on my way." The blonde gave another curt bow, and was about to turn on his heel when Gwendel's voice halted him.

"Wolfram. The truce deals with you."

The blonde gritted his teeth slightly. He _knew _that. As a Fallen Angel and as a person living in this world, he _knew_ this treaty dealt with him. After all, it meant that the smoke in the distance would fade, and... "Does it, Brother?" The sarcasm was biting enough to wipe the smug smile from Gunter's face, and cause a frown to appear between Gwendel's brows. Shouri's eyebrows shot up in interest and a faint muttering came from his direction. Wolfram chose to ignore it.

"Indeed. We've come to several agreements... Not only will peace be restored between us, but our courts will be blended into one."

This news elicited a slight perk of interest...and more than a hefty dose of anger. Blend their courts? What was Gwendel thinking, so sully their palaces by hosting and actually _mingling_ with such curs! And they couldn't exactly merge into one just like that, without something to tie them together. The hostility and distrust would be too much, and...

"They've agreed to give us back Frankfurt, along with the several ports they've taken from us. All the lands in the East shall also now belong to us, and they will get Slvera and Francshire. We've both agreed, though, to allow the ruling families to continue to do so."

Wolfram frowned at that. Francshire, as small an island as it was, was still quite important. Their silks were excellent, and the trading route passed straight through the area. Their produce, as well, was exceptionally fine, and he saw no reason to forfeit the place like so. "Is that all?"

"One last thing. To successfully blend the courts and ensure peace and unity in the future..." Gwendel paused for effect, letting the words sink in. He watched the turmoil in his little brother's face, saw the unease once more flit into his evergreen eyes. This wasn't easy, as one might've assumed just by looking at his blank face. After all, Gwendel had worked hard to get that Shouri man to agree to this. However, the price he requested was high, but for the sake of the future...

"Well? Spit it out!" Impatient. He always ways, but to be left dangling at that cliffhanger? Wolfram couldn't handle it. He'd waited long enough, watched Gwendel's look of stone, felt the nausea creep back into his stomach. There was something definitely wrong about this and...

"We've decided to give your hand in marriage to the Demon King."


	2. Chapter 2: Free Bird Blues

**A/N**: Whoo boy, so I finally was able to get this thing working and get my second chapter up! (I had finished it a while ago...er...two days ago, to be exact.) And...you'll notice I've actually titled my chapters now. (I had wanted to do that to the first but it slipped my mind and then...then I couldn't edit it and boo-hoo-hoo. And stuff...so...yeah.) I terribly hope Yuuri's not _too_ OOC, I did my best with him. the next chapter will be hella hard...as...well, you'll just have to wait and see how OOC I've made them. XD If I get enough reviews to drive me on. -wink, wink, hint, hint, nudge, nudge- Oh, and thanks to the ones who HAVE reviewed - much appreciated! Oh, er, warnings? Still AU, still got nice shounen ai Yuuram, and now we've added terribly OOC'ness to the concoction!

**Disclaimers:** I don't own the anime Kyou Kara Maou, nor did I draw the comics, nor did I write the novels. -sniffs- Someone, comfort me? -listens to Conrad sing 'Love Me Tender' to feel better-

**Chapter 2: Free Bird Blues**

Shibuya Yuuri (Harajuku Fuuri) had lacked many things in his life. A proper baseball bat and new gloves, first of all, a sane mother, a father with a backbone, and an older brother who didn't seem to think of him as a little sister or toddler. Oh, a girlfriend should be included, but truthfully, Yuuri's brain was lost among the baseball stars to really care much about something so silly. He figured when he made it big - oh, what was another ten years without a significant other? - he'd be swamped with girls, and would definitely have his pickings. He should also include the fact the seemingly fifteen-year-old baseball-obsessed boys was a Demon King for the underworld, but why think of that? He'd appointed Shouri as an ambassador after being forcefully whisked away to this Earth area along with his family, and immediately fell in love with the American sport. He had trust in his older brother would heed his words when he'd commanded that he not let the war last another second, and haggle with the Fallen Angels until all was settled. Yuuri would've loved to do it himself, but it seemed his small family worried an assassination attempt after a particular dinner (he still insists he was merely surprised by a birdcall and just dropped the knife), but there was no arguing when Miko "Jennifer" Shibuya stomped her foot down. All that aside, he was normal by all means that he knew of, sans the slight gender-complex his family seemed to suffer over him. Thusly saw it perfectly fit to throw a confused tantrum when he came home one afternoon from school (after pinning after a baseball diamond complete with ball player) to discover a few important facts that had been arranged without his knowledge.

"_SHOURI, YOU DID WHAT!_"

The older Shibuya sighed softly, shaking his head at his little brother's reaction. That was to be expected - his little brother lacked as much tact as that blonde brat did. However, Shouri had made a promise, and the chance for the future this made couldn't be ignored. He felt slightly bad, arranging this marriage without his brother's consent, and also felt more than a little resentment towards himself for it. After all, Yuuri was still far too young. He couldn't possibly handle married life at this age. And after seeing his intended-to-be and the temper tantrum that followed after he himself learned he was to be given away like a present rather than a human - er, other worldly being, he nearly regretted his choice. But when the first regiment had returned and he was introduced to the second oldest son of the royal family, and having a talk with the man, he reluctantly allowed for the proposal to go through.

"I got you hitched." Blunt was all Shouri could be right now, as he flipped another page of the newspaper casually. Jennifer had heard the news already, and was a permanent fixation at Yuuri's side since the second the boy stepped through the door.

"B-but... but! How _could_ you--! SHOURIIII! This is my LOVE LIFE!" After all, having a fiancée was one of the things you were _supposed_ to know about beforehand!

"And it's all been settled out for you, Yuu-chan!" Squealed the gushing woman latched onto his arm. Yuuri wondered, sometimes, if maybe aliens had replaced his mother's actual brain with that of a thirteen-year-old girl.

"That's EXACTLY it! I can't be married at this age and--"

"It's only an engagement. The actual wedding can wait several years."

"But that's rude to a girl, to keep her waiting and--SHOURI! Stop saying things to put words in my mouth!"

The crinkling of newspaper as the older flipped past another page, before calmly replying, "You put those in your mouth yourself."

"Ne, ne, Yuu-chan! You'll bring your fiancée home and let us get to know her, right? Right?"

"Moooooom! I don't _want_ to be engaged right now and Shouri should--"

"You mentioned it being rude to keep a lady waiting. Your bride-to-be arrived today with an escort - you're supposed to meet her in an hour."

And that, regrettably, was that. All matters were settled as the boy went back into panic mode, screaming something about not knowing what brand clothes to wear or what to say, and how could they have gotten him - their own king - into such a predicament. After all, this would be a sort of unholy matrimony, what with them being so young and barely knowing each other, and boy, did he hope she liked him.

And it had to have been more than an hour when Yuuri stumbled out of the door, tugging on a light jacket to ward off the spring wind and shoes barely on correctly, for there was what Yuuri assumed was their escort. He was a tall, lean man, with the gentlest smile the Demon King had ever seen on anyone's face. Dressed in casual jeans and T-shirt with an over shirt tossed over his muscled frame, Yuuri was faintly glad he didn't need to wear anything formal. The boy had no formal tuxedos, after all, and he felt arriving in his formal uniform was just a bit much. The escort had been leaning against a black car - it appeared shiny and new from Yuuri's prospective, and if his limited knowledge on the things were right, it appeared to be a BMW. If that was true, then it was expensive, and Yuuri worried about getting it dirty. That fear melted the moment the escort brushed some of his brown bangs from his eyes, revealing a rich, soulful gaze that reminded him of a run-of-the-mill shoujo anime, of the single teacher that all the girls drooled over. Hurriedly, Yuuri bowed as a faint blush came to his cheeks after that thought. He must be reading too much of his mother's books.

"Er, uh, hi! I'm Shibuya Yuuri, Harajuku Fuuri! Well, the last part's not actually part of my name, but you see, all the kids here call me that since I've arrived and--"

A deep, relaxed chuckle broke the boy's rambling, causing him to look up sharply and blush that much harder. He'd probably made a fool of himself, and was being laughed at. What a way to go for first impressions...

"So you're the Demon King? Its no wonder peace was reached this quickly." The brunette gave the younger man a smile, and moved away from the car languidly. A soft click later, and the back door was swung wide open, the man bowed at the waist and motioning elegantly with one hand for him to get in. "My name is Conrad Weller, and from today, I will be your head guard. After all, you're joining our courts, by marrying my sibling."

The boy-king flushed harder than ever. Being treated to royally was...uncomfortable, to say the least. It felt too formal, and if what this Conrad guy was saying was true, he'd rather not have their relationship start this way. "Hey...we're going to be brothers-in-laws anyway, right? So, drop the formalities! We can be pals and...Hopefully get along!" Yuuri beamed his brightest at the man before hoping his way around the sleek black vehicle, trailing his fingertips along the smooth edge. He could see his reflection, distorted beyond belief, bounce and follow along with him until he reached the passenger's side, and opened the door himself. "I call shot gun! Well, not like I can't call anything other than shotgun but--are those leather seats? Aaaaggghhh, I feel so cheap in here! My inferiority complex!"

Conrad seemed slightly surprised by the boy's reaction to his protocol. The half-human was used to the rough sort of treatment, the ignorance, or the silent scorn. He had received kindness from time to time, of course he had, which fueled his love for peace and drove him to fight for it's cause, but it was rare one of such a high rank - and a former enemy at that - to treat him so. Even more amusing, Conrad realized as he shut the back door and opened the driver's side, sliding into his seat behind the wheel, was the boy's utter naivete. This was sure to be amusing, he was sure, and his little brother was in for a definite treat. In truth, when he first heard of the proposal, he had wondered what in hell had been going through Gwendel's mind to approve such a thing. Not only would Wolfram be fuming at giving him no say in the arrangement, he was sure the Demon King would as well - not to mention, this would destroy any chance for the young prince. He knew Wolfram, he knew his pride and loyalty, and would not back out of a promise this big. He felt Wolfram had been robbed of a chance of willingly giving his heart away. He worried what kind of man would be taking his little brother as their spouse, and worried for Wolfram's future. A chance meeting with the ambassador, who also happened to be the Demon King's older brother - helped to lift a veil or two on that mystery. But seeing the Demon King himself assuaged any doubts from his mind and soul like a refreshing shower.

"Don't let it bother you much," Conrad murmured as his hand fell upon the stick, and he put the car into first gear just as Yuuri had settled and was in the process of clicking his seatbelt securely. The car thrummed to life with a purr. He put the car into reverse, pulling back into the narrow street ways of the Japan area, then took off to rendezvous at the cafe where his youngest sibling awaited them. "It was your fiancée's choice. My sibling wanted you to think highly of us, and choose this vehicle as a proper means to transport you. We thought it would impress you."

Yuuri had to smile a little at that. Someone...try to impress him? That was the first. Maybe this girl would like him after all. But...would he like her back? It seemed she had a lot of money to blow, and he hoped she wasn't hoping he was filthy rich or anything, because he didn't have much to spend. Yuuri slumped into the chair, willing the plush leather to eat him up right now as he directed his gaze out the window. "I wouldn't mind a bus... Ah! No, never mind, this is fine enough! It does impress me it's just... well..."

A chuckle greeted that line, much like the chuckle he first heard. It was about this time that the boy began to pick up that it wasn't a mocking tone in the least, more like an older brother amused by the younger brother's way of thinking. He found he liked the sound, and liked the thought of having a brother that wasn't quite like Shouri. After all, Shouri was the one who got him into this mess when he asked for peace! Peace! "Are you afraid, Your Majesty?"

"Ah...a little," he confessed, after a short period of silence to think. "I mean, we've never ever met before and I don't know how your sibling is! I don't know what she likes or dislikes, I don't know if she's mean or nice, I don't know anything about her! I don't know if I'll screw something up or--"

"Don't you think it's easier to be yourself when you don't know a thing about them?"

Yuuri tore his gaze away to stare at the brunette beside him, befuddled, managing an eloquent, "...eh?"

Conrad not once took his eyes off the rode, but there was a smile in his eyes that told Yuuri he didn't have to look at the boy King to see his expression. "When you just go to meet a person without knowing a thing about them, you aren't influenced by outside sources to lie to gain their approval. You can honestly be yourself, and only the personalities of the two meeting will judge how their future will go."

Yuuri took a while to digest this, before grinning like a fool himself, a hand coming up to scratch his head distractedly. "That's pretty mature of you to say, Conrad."

"I've lived a long time, Your Majesty."

"We're going to be brothers-in-laws, aren't we? Call me Yuuri."

"...Alright, Yuuri." There was a long moment of silence as the car came to a rumbling halt before a red light. People rushed across the street, some diagonally in a hectic race to go nowhere. Yuuri idly watched the people before turning back to the man, unnerved by the silence. It was then that he got a good look at the handsome visage of his older brother-to-be, the brunette sported a scar across his eyebrow, and a hearing aide in his ear.

"... Have you gone deaf in one ear already? Ah! Oh, jeez, that was forward of me, I'm sorry!"

Conrad gave a little start and reached up to touch his ear, callused fingers coming in contact with the small item in his ear, before he smiled gently. "No, not at all. This is a translator - though you know our natural language, my sibling and I need this to understand the rest of this world. Your mother had come from here - so you and your brother and probably your father are fluent, but I fear the rest of us are rather ignorant of such things."

"Oh.." And then the lights turned green, and as if Conrad had never been distracted earlier, he pushed the car into gear and they were moving off again. A glance out the window told Yuuri there were nearing the edge of the shopping district in Shibuya, awfully close to Harajuku. European style stores lined the streets, occasionally dotted with a willowy, leafy tree fenced around to make sure it grew straight. Few cars lined the streets, and the people who walked the sloping hill went at a slow, leisurely pace. Some carried bags sporting the names of some European store, and Yuuri distinctly felt as though he'd stepped into London, or someplace back home. "Conrad?"

"Yes?"

"I...I know you said I shouldn't know a thing...but I want to be prepared. Could you...could you tell me what kinda person I'm supposed to marry?"

There was silence once again, and Yuuri worried he'd crossed the line with the man. The last thing he wanted to do was break any type of bond he just forged with what he considered a very mature adult, someone to depend upon unlike Shouri. He suddenly felt guilt stricken, and turned to properly apologize for making such a request when he noticed that Conrad was still smiling.

"Of course. After all, I'll have to warn you that my younger sibling has some very apparent flaws."

Yuuri gulped.

"You see, my sibling can come off as sort of arrogant, pushy, and bratty. Loud, sometimes, and unrelenting and stubborn as the rest of our family. In truth, many people find my sibling's brash qualities and frequent passions something of a major flaw."

Yuuri gulped again. This girl was beginning to sound like a complete nightmare...

"But you can never judge a book by its cover, could you? There are reasons behind those qualities, such as a fierce loyalty and love for those who are close. There's much more to my sibling than meets the eye, and takes far more than one meeting to understand completely."

And then the demon king felt the car pull to the side, slide into a small parking space just before a cafe. The engine stopped thrumming, the air con turned off, and the locks popped up with a dull sound. Conrad left the keys in the ignition, and turned to look at the black-haired boy with a smile, tinged slightly with sadness...and something he couldn't quite pinpoint. "You may get out at any time, Your Majesty. But if you could take this one request - as a humble 'brother' to another...if you should at any time feel that this marriage will end in disaster, for the sake of both your hearts, forsake this proposal. Peace can be achieved another way, and it should not come at the cost of anyone's happiness - not a king's, and not a younger sibling's."

And Yuuri decided then if Conrad - who seemed so nice, wise, and kind - could care this much about a single person, then this person must be definitely worth the trouble they cause. Putting on what he hoped was his most charming smile, he nodded optimistically. "I'll work hard to make this thing work." His hand shot to the seatbelt buckle, releasing the catch, before he turned to open the door. Just as it swung open and the boy hopped out, did he curses and whirl around and pop his head back into the car. Well, he would've had he not misjudged the distance between roof and forehead, and banged his head rather hard on the metal as he made to lean back into the car.

"Your Majesty!" Conrad cried, hands moving to undo the catch of his seatbelt. "Are you alright? That sounded like it hurt."

Yuuri smiled ruefully, rubbing at the sore spot developing on his forehead. That was going to form a lump, and surely not to impress his intended. "I'm fine, my head's thicker than that!" He laughed a little before realizing he'd just insulted himself, and tapered it off into embarrassed chuckles. "Uh...um. You see, Conrad...what does my fiancée look like?"

The brunette, nearly completely free of the seatbelt, stopped his doings to blink at the boy king. Yuuri stood before him, looking very much like an awkward teen going on his first date. His obsidian eyes were bright and wide, coal bangs falling into a flushed face and covering a reddish lump forming on his forehead. And that smile...that smile on that tanned face, optimistic and boyish. No one would suspect that this boy was a Demon King. He seemed too airheaded at times; he seemed too naive, and far too young. It was then that Conrad decided that, without a doubt, this boy would win Wolfram's heart in a matter of seconds.

"We look nothing alike, I assure you, but he'll be the prettiest one there. I'm sure you'll be able to pick which one." Conrad smiled reassuringly and Yuuri bounced back out of the car. Just before he shut the door, he heard Conrad call out as if on last thought, "I'll be waiting outside the door for you!" He turned to wave at the man, letting him know he'd caught the message called out. Sadly, he couldn't quite catch the word 'he'.


	3. Chapter 3: Hot Boy VS Iced Frappuccino

**A/N:** I actually got to a chapter three! ..;; Terribly sorry, I was supposed to connect chapter two and three (it was my initial plan), but "Free Bird Blues" turned out far longer than I expected... ;; I make a bad Conrad, I know. XD;; And I've taken so many liberties... (Ruined Yuuri pretty badly, too. xx;) Oh, the title? I love the title of the second episode. I never get tired of spoofing it. So...uh...as dramatic and terribly angsty as "Caged Bird Sings" (Chapter One's supposed to be title...which I never gave it...crap) was, from here out, I'm letting my humor take control. Unless the angst grabs me and I churn out something that bad again from my rectum. ( -- Friend's words, not mine!) I've also went way overboard with the description (Which I totally suck at and used such generic adjectives...yargh.)...but it was kinda intended, to stress a few things. XD You'll see what I mean. It's still AU, still filled with boy luff, etc., etc.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own a single sliver of Kyou Kara Maou. I'd kill to get a piece, but then I'd be deprived of a _good_ anime.

**Chapter 3: Hot Boy VS Iced Frappuccino**

Yuuri squinted against the light difference as he pushed open the glass door of the coffeehouse. Well, it also could've been the fact the person who designed the place chose to make the walls a soft pink color, reminding him of the inside of a grapefruit to clash so well with the checkered linoleum floor. When his eyes adjusted to the horrors of the interior, realizing that the horrible colors weren't quite the end, he heard the glass door click shut behind him, the bell hung at its corner chiming to welcome him. That wasn't all that welcomed him, of course. There was the chipper young woman behind the long counter who wasn't busy at the cashier at the moment who called out a perk greeting, despite being dressed in what he could only assume was the Lolita's latest fashion. Couple this that the young woman's hair had mostly been shaven off at the sides, the top left to dangle in long bright red braids and she had absolutely _no _eyebrows what so ever, Yuuri felt out of place to say the least. He also had to wonder who was insane enough to hire such a woman...after all, weren't they supposed to be discreet? If she were perhaps in the fashion district rather than this upperclass area, he'd find her being here more sense but...

Well, only in Tokyo.

Bowing out of common courtesy, Yuuri ventured further into the room, drinking in the scene. It seemed the walls were not only a grapefruit pink, but were splashed with handprints of every color and size. Black and white pictures hung on the walls, and occasionally some impressionist artist's work. He even spotted a framed kindergartner's picture, lovingly scrawled upon across the middle with the artist's name in what could rival a boar's penmanship. As for furniture, there were wooden stools lined against the counter, with a bit of space in front of the three cash registers and the five workers behind it, all varying in looks. Yuuri only assumed you were allowed to drink upon the countertop as long as you didn't interfere with the line, but currently no one seemed to have the time. The customers that did have the time seemed to prefer the white, little, round tables dotting an area he determined must've been set out for such a thing. They also looked awfully small, with their single clawed leg, and could only support three people at a time at the most. Hell, two looked like they might've been pushing it... Very few of these tables were taken up, and he found it no surprise. Even if they were set up at a spot that wasn't all that bad.

From one end of the coffee shop to the other stretched a glass window, allowing a view of the street outside. The tops of potted ferns and flowers could be seen just outside, brushing up against the glass. Sunlight poured in from this window, creating the light needed to see sufficiently without the aide of candles or electricity. All in all, that was instantly one of Yuuri's favorite spots in this whole place.

Zanier craftsmanship lined against the wall - couches that were oblong and twisting like snakes, fake little plotted trees painted purple, and even something that looked like a mini stuffed panda in one corner, decked out in a hula skirt. Yuuri began to seriously wonder over what kind of person would run a store like this...and even worse, make it appear as successful as it was. After all, there was a line, and there were people here, and...

_I'm keeping her waiting._

That thought alone nearly made him panic. When the second racy thought, the fact he had absolutely no idea what in hell he was looking for, hit, he nearly fainted. What made him agree to this? Why wasn't someone here to help introduce him? What if she was TOO pretty? What if she was too old, or too young, or too mean, or too...too..._spoiled..._ But mostly...

_What did she look like?_

After all, you can't be expected to meet someone when you don't even have a clue what you're looking for to meet in the first place! He nearly began to hyperventilate as he glanced around himself frantically, as if there was an answer in the shadow or horrible paintings somewhere for what to do now. And he would've made himself blue in the face with worry and stress had Conrad's voice not chosen to worm its way through into his head (thick as it was), and restore what little sanity there was to have in him.

_I'm sure you'll be able to pick which one._

This brought a somewhat clear head to his shoulders, calming him enough to square his shoulders and breathe in deep, soothing breaths. He couldn't keep a gal waiting, after all, even if things didn't turn out quite the way Yuuri wanted it to. Well, not that he was really looking forward to getting engaged this young - far too young and there should be a law against this! - but he wouldn't mind having a girlfriend. Especially if she was pretty. Conrad said she'd be pretty and... Dark eyes scanned the room, trying to root out anything pretty he missed. There were girls here, but most were older, dressed as though they'd just taken a break from their executive jobs, and were here with their friends. They laughed prettily and softly, covered their smiles with their mouths even if it reached their eyes and in every way, appeared like modern, mature Japanese women. Their hair was thick and dark, in varying shades of brown and black, with eyes similarly dark. From experience, Yuuri knew these were not the traits he was looking for, as attractive as it was. He was looking for a distinct foreigner, for something...

And as if a ray of heaven shown down from the window, he saw what he was looking for. In the farthest corner from him sat just the thing he was looking for, sitting at one of those tables, and conveniently facing him so that he had an unobstructed view of her face. Golden hair tumbled over her eyes, down her neck, the tips of the curls just barely brushing her shoulders. Which, by the way, were pale with a healthy pink undertone and from here, looked smooth as ivory. Her face was perfectly heart shaped - hinting that she was still young - with wide eyes that were closed, pale lashes resting against slightly bright pink cheeks and a plush mouth set into a slight frown. But that didn't matter, because she looked perfectly angelic from where he stood, rooted to the spot. She looked wonderful in that salmon colored tanktop - complimented her clear un-Oriental looks - and the frills about the edge around her surprisingly not full chest, and from what he could see, there was a hint of curves and shapely legs under those slightly ripped jeans. That made up for the serious lack of chest, but its not like that mattered much really, when it came to a delicate situation like this. Yuuri knew attraction was supposed to come first, and he was definitely attracted.

Perhaps, he thought, this may not go so bad as he finally galvanized himself into motion, and moved to join his new intended at the table, meeting the purest, greenest eyes he'd ever seen in his life with a bashful smile.

Wolfram von Bielefelt was _beyond_ pissed. When Gwendel had told him he was to be given away like an unwanted gift to the hands of the enemy, to be wed to someone he barely knew little less _liked_, he'd thrown the biggest fit ever known to history. In fact, he surprised himself at the amount of curse words, items broken, and people he nearly set on fire. Shouri had been lucky to get up and dash from the room, and Gwendel had been kept on his toes until Anissina burst in with her Lady Poison-something-something-kuns to knock him unconscious. He still insists Gwendel should be glad for all the magic barrier practice he gave him that day.

He had to be physically and magically restrained for a day or so afterwards, tied down to his bed to keep from getting up and attacking Gwendel yet again. And despite the numbing pain from the barriers set up to restrict him and keep him at bay, he still struggled and managed to snap and snarl at anyone far too close. Not Gwendel with all his reason and tact, not Shouri with his silent disapproval, not even his own mother could persuade him to go through with it. He probably would not have handled this so badly, had he been given a choice in the matter.

It certainly didn't help when he was told his husband-to-be was a combination of the things he loathed most. Human and demon. It was like asking him to marry a swine.

Though, if Gwendel had asked him if he wanted to take the hand, and then craftily replied that the duty would then fall to him and offer himself as the bride, then Wolfram would've swiftly jumped in. He would've willingly come here to meet the boy, then prove just how graceless and tactless his whole kind were, and forcefully _show_ his brother how truly badly he sucked at arranging marriages.

Not that saying him coming here was entirely unwilling, anyway.

Leave it completely up to Sir Weller to be the stereotypical knight in shining armor, as much as Wolfram had to be grudgingly grateful for that. The man, having been called back from the war, quickly came to his younger brother's rescue after hearing of what was to happen...and the imprisonment of the blonde. He didn't care how many days, how many hours, how many words were screamed between his two older siblings. All he cared was that one day, Conrad came into the room and unshackled the chains binding his limbs, scattered the shining stones that held him in place, and grabbed his shoulders firmly. Normally, Wolfram would've slapped those hands away with a snarl of vehement anger, would've pushed away and distanced them. After all, Conrad's blood was sullied. Conrad was not even graced with wings, and thus shouldn't even consider him as a part of society, no matter the fact he constantly fought down his own familial ties and cares. But this wasn't a normal case, and the firm grip was unrelenting. Wolfram could not ignore the commanding figure before him, and reluctantly, lifted his eyes to meet those of his brother's.

Sir Weller had told him he managed to bargain a way. Shouri, after seeing the extreme tantrum Wolfram was capable of, approached Gwendel as Weller and he argued with a proposition. Let it be up to the newly weds of they wanted to be engaged. They will arrange for a meeting, and if things went well, then consider themselves engaged. However, if they managed to find life with each other so utterly intolerable, then they were free to come to a mature agreement not to go through with the wedding. They were free to walk out on each other, never see each other unless absolutely necessary, and forget they were once intended. When Wolfram was about to refuse, Weller shook him, then told him firmly it was either this way, or get married, even if they had to tie him up.

With such options, it wasn't hard to tell what choice Wolfram came to.

Even though, as he sat there in that coffee shop the Earthians called it, he was _really_ starting to regret he hadn't taken his chances.

The trip to Earth was hell. Ulrike had stripped him of his wings, and the pain had been rather unbearable. The shame of it had him nearly threatening to kill the child-like priestess, but firm chides from Weller that came out more as a taunt stilled his sword. Which was later taken from him, much to his chagrin. Once every sign that he was of noble Fallen Angel birth had been forcefully ripped from his being - rendering him useless, in his mind's eye - he was quickly wrapped up and shoved into a small puddle.

Then sucked down into a whirling, sickening, revolting whirlpool that was supposed to transport him from the underworld, to the Earth world. The feeling of constantly moving up and down, every part of his body being sucked as if a giant were trying to suck his bones from his body, only to be spit out in a fountain of some sort, sputtering. And then, without warning, he was suddenly, violently sick.

It didn't help that Weller was to be his escort, having helped Shouri come up with that whole foolhardy get-to-know-each-other plan, and the first thing the soldier did on Earth was serve as his little brother's personal barf-bag. Weller probably regretted surfacing headfirst from then on. Even if that shit-eating grin was still plastered to his face, and as much as Wolfram would've loved to wipe it off his face, he was just not feeling up to it. Nor was his stomach.

Hours later, Shouri had come with spare clothes, given Conrad a key to some type of horse-less carriage, and taught the man to maneuver it about. Weller was a fast learner, and quickly picked up on how to get about using it, and soon enough, they were on a mini tour of the place the Demon King called home. Wolfram refused to show it, but he was enthralled. There was a vast difference between this world, and the world that they lived in. Horses were no longer required, swords were replaced with more smaller and according to Shouri, deadlier, weapons, and magic was nearly null on this planet. There were other miracles to behold, but Shouri had stopped the car and had had a brief conversation with Weller, before he'd handed over the keys and walked out. A short moment later and some "basic social skills" review by Conrad, and the boy'd been dropped off here and directed to choose a spot and wait.

The first few minutes, he'd nearly thought he'd die of shock - after all, when he was told he was "waiting in one of the finest coffee houses this part of Japan," he hadn't expected to be set upon by near-hairless freaks and sandbear cubs in skirts. Sadly, this was the life he'd walked into...and Wolfram was determined to make this his last trip. No matter what kind of guy this Yuuri person was, no matter how suave they tried to make the slob or how cute the idiot was, Wolfram had already made up his mind. He would not sully his bloodline by marrying a fool such as the Demon King, and would not walk among these wingless scums a minute longer. A waitress had dared to approach the fuming prince at some point to ask his order, and jumped when he snapped he'd have some tea.

Hopefully, they at least had that comfort. Or he swears that upon the souls of his ancestor, he was going to have someone's head.

Luckily enough, they did, and he was able to nurse that cup until this supposed King reared his head only to get spurned away by the blonde. After all, Wolfram had repeated it over and over in his head that he would NOT marry the Demon King, treaty or no. No amount of training could change his blood, no amount of words will make him see him as anything other than lying, cheating scum, and no matter how cute he was he could resist.

..._ what happened to 'no matter how cute?'_

When Wolfram lifted his eyes to meet those of the stranger who'd approached him, he was immediately struck by a single thought: That boy had the sweetest smile. Compared to what he's seen and judging from all the looks of the people he'd seen milling about outside of that carriage, this boy was no different. Hair a dark, near jet black that just made it past his chin and expressive coal eyes set on a face that was no longer a boy, but not quite man. He was tanned, speaking of hours out in the sun - unusual for royalty and made Wolfram's opinion that he was a pig not change in the least (okay, maybe a piglet. He was far too cute to be a pig) - and from what the sleeves of the jacket and snatches from the clingy material of his blue shirt allowed him to see, he was fairly muscled. _Perhaps sword training? Not all bad...and he's still cute._ The boy rubbed the back of his head in a shy gesture, making his frown a slight bit deeper as the dark-haired teen seemed reluctant to speak. But when he did...

"Uhm. Uh. I...I was brought here by a guy named Conrad Weller...and he's a really swell guy and everything! But...but uhm... I'm...ya know...I'm supposed to meet my f-fiancée and..."

Wolfram quickly tore his eyes away after that stutter, feeling his cheeks pinken. How dare that lout have the gall to refer to him as his fiancé already! Wolfram's resolve began to boil over, replace the doubt from earlier and rub away the cute appeal of this man. "Sit already, wimp, and let's get this over with."

Yuuri stiffened a moment. Conrad had warned him of his sister's attitude, but she was already jumping to call him a wimp? A slight bit of indignation struck, and quietly, he retaliated with a "Don't call me a wimp!" before sliding into the seat across the pretty girl. He fought a bit with his seat - the thing felt wobbly like the thin legs would cave under his weight - before finally coming out the loser. He wrestled with the chair, and he could've sworn the thing was a professional wrestler, because the next thing he knew, he was lying sprawled on his back, on the floor. The blonde hadn't even budged, merely taken a sip once more from her cup before raising her brows and repeating just as calmly as before.

"Wimp."

And seemed utterly startled when he began to chuckle. She jumped in her seat a bit, before sitting up straight and glaring down at him as he struggled to stop laughing and crawl back onto his chair, which seemed to be behaving now. "W-what are you laughing about? You're supposed to be embarrassed and hate it, not laugh you dolt!"

It wasn't until he'd crawled back onto his chair and wiped away a few tears of mirth that he'd managed to calm down a bit. Then he smiled goofily at his intended, bordering into apologetic. "I thought it was funny. Here I am trying to impress you, but I ended up doing something stupid like that and well..."

As a reward, the blonde blushed. Blushed so hard he could see the red reach her ears and down her neck, before she quickly turned away from him with another "wimp" and went straight for her tea. Feeling embarrassed then, Yuuri decided that he'd call over a waitress and order himself something to wet his mouth - perhaps an iced mocha frappuccino would help him settle, and perhaps they could then get more properly introduced. After successfully completing that, he returned to trying to start a conversation with this girl he was supposed to wed. After all, married couples are supposed to know each other, right?

"I'm Shibuya Yuuri."

Wolfram flicked his eyes up once again to look at the casual greeting, the sweet smile, the way this boy seemed even more utterly social impaired than he. He could've sworn he'd been giving off the appropriate vibes to tell that he didn't like him, and couldn't place his finger on _why _this boy continued to make such a fool of himself. Weren't they supposed to give up the moment it was hopeless?

"...Wolfram."

"Wolfram..." He repeated the foreign name slowly, but something seemed off. It wasn't quite a name fitted for a pretty girl. It seemed far too masculine, tougher than a girl should be. So warrior-like. "I hope we get along. Conrad had told me that you might be nasty, but it was worth the effort."

And that caused a visible change in the blonde. She seemed to stiffen, her left eyebrow twitching for just a moment. Her fingers tightened around her teacup, the knuckles turning white and he swore he heard a low growl issue from that elegant neck. "So...he did, did he? What _else_ did Sir Weller tell you? That I was a sweet kind kid on the inside, and that--"

"Well, actually, I was hoping to find out who you were on my own." Yuuri laughed softly after telling the angry boy that, hoping it'd pacify him and not make him fly into one of those passions he saw pre-Madonna's fly into all the time on television.

Lucky for Yuuri, it had that very effect he wanted. Wolfram blushed deeply, before going silent and turning back to the comfort of her tea. Yuuri smiled comfortably, seeing that maybe Conrad was right. Sure, she did seem to have a few rough edges, but there was a definite soft side. If he worked a bit more, he might actually be able to see himself with this girl and...

"Stop staring at me."

"I-I wasn't staring, honest! I'm not suspicious, I was--"

"And stop stammering and talking like a moron."

Yuuri frowned. Then again, that attitude _was_ a turn-off.

"Fine."

"Wimp."

"Don't call me a wimp!"

"Your frappuccino, sir."

Yuuri smiled warmly at the waitress as she gently placed his drink on the table. He didn't notice the look that his guest was giving him until the waitress had flounced off in all her Lolita glory, and turned back to face the girl when he encountered something that looked like the epitome of jealousy itself. Or, at least, a secret portion of his mind seemed to whisper that. The larger part of his head pondered over why the girl looked so angry. "Are you..."

"Nothing! Don't say ANYTHING. I wasn't looking at you!" Wolfram huffed and downed the rest of his tea in a single gulp, slamming the China down with a rattle. There was another strike against this boy - he was an utter and total flirt! Just like all demons, and all humans, they didn't know how to keep their hands off or when to curb their tongues, their heads were full of mud and...

Yuuri sighed a bit, muttering softly, "Sorry."

"Wimp." Was the immediate retort.

"I said stop calling me that!"

"But you are. You cave so easily, you stutter and are nervous, you practice no decorum..."

Yuuri slumped a little in his seat and took up his frappuccino, sucking it up to silence any comeback he had as Wolfram went on to assume and list things that proved her point that he was a wimp. Even if the things she said were quite true.

"...I bet you waste your time pining without taking much action, you don't know how to go after what you want, you've got no drive, no sword skill, you can't even fight a chair, and from the looks of it, you--"

"Shut up, okay, I get the point!" Then his eyes widened in horror, and he ducked his head a bit. He'd never talked so sharply to a girl before, and suddenly felt guilty and like the worst scum to have walked the Earth. If his mother were around, she'd have surely pummeled him for speaking so harshly to a woman. Even worse, his own fiancée! Even if she was quickly becoming a pain in the ass and... And utterly uninterested in his outburst. In fact, she seemed to settle for glaring at him for a moment, before trailing her eyes off elsewhere. He supposed she didn't want to know him after that, and he couldn't quite blame her for feeling that way. To have lost his temper like that, no matter if she... "L-listen, I'm sorry. Hey, let's start again okay? I'm Shibuya Yuuri!"

Wolfram refused to acknowledge him by looking at the dark-haired boy, but raised his brows. "I know that."

"Yeah, okay, that's true! And you're Wolfram! That's a very pretty name," and that merited another blush to touch the blonde's cheeks, which in return caused Yuuri to smile wider, "but it's a very strange name for a girl."

It took a moment for that embarrassing remark to get a reply, at least, long enough for Yuuri to lift his cup and nearly take a drink. Wolfram's voice stopped him from taking it and possibly choking to death.

"I'm a boy."

Yuuri nearly fell off his chair, this time without needing it to challenge him in wrestling. He barely managed to catch himself on the edge of the table, his drink still in one hand. So _that_ was it! This guy wasn't his fiancée after all. Maybe he was a test of some sort - or maybe part of the escort. After all, princesses usually had a big convey of sorts to travel around with them to make sure they were safe. Maybe he was a decoy, so as not to get hurt - there was no other way to explain why he was dressed like a girl. When Yuuri managed to haul himself up straight, he had the most relieved smile on his face, and Wolfram wasn't aware that made him blush deeper. There was something about that smile, so honest and true unlike Sir Weller's, that always made his face light on fire and make a small, slightly queasy feeling stir in his belly. It wasn't quite like being sick, but it wasn't a very comfortable feeling.

"So _that's_ it! Haha, oh man, you almost had me going there..." Yuuri was muttering softly to himself, his now freed hand coming up to brush through his bangs. "So, then, Wolfram, where's my fiancée? Is she in the bathroom? I can't wait to meet her face to face!" He brought the cup to his mouth once again and took a long draught, leaning slightly to the side to try and catch a glimpse of someone coming their way, someone as pretty as the boy before him to come walking this way like a dream come true.

Instead, he swore he felt the room light on fire. With his cup still in his mouth, he turned to look at Wolfram, and shrank away immediately. The blonde boy looked like he was on the verge of going homicidal, his fingers digging and clawing at the table as his lip curled into a snarl. Pretty as he was, he looked far scarier when he was angry. He tried to call the boy's name from around the cup in his mouth, but it came out far too garbled for even Yuuri to understand.

"_Yuuri. I AM your fiancé!_"

And in the next moment, Wolfram's face was covered in mocha frappuccino. Yuuri doubled over the edge of the chair, coughing and sputtering as his mind tried to wrap around that fact. He was at the tender age of fifteen and already engaged - to a _boy_!

"Y-YOU'RE KIDDING MMMMEEEEEE!"

**Post A/N:** So...I know. Those of you who've gotten this far are cringing in pain. But anyway...just a few rants here. One: Yuuri was VERY hard to do. XD;; As you know, I've been trying to keep him at the angle where he thinks Wolfram is a girl and...and...well, it was hard, seeing as I'm sure he'd treat Wolf different if he WERE a girl but I'm so used to how he normally acts around him... Well, at least from now, I can have him act the same. ("I don't WANT to be your fiancé!" But don't let that worry you - next chapter will have a similar "yo' mama, foo'!" rant and the infamous bitch-slap-of-possesiveness that'll _cement_ their relationship and...well, yeah. Am I spoiling too much?) Two: Wolfram was even HARDER. The way I made this, it was so sketchy, because it's clear I didn't know what feelings I wanted Wolf to have right off the bat. Then again, that was because I had certain points plotted out before hand, and the rest I just kinda winged it on the spot while tired. It was hard to think. Very hard. Though my friend said the way it was came off very awkward, like how a first date was and well...it gets my hopes up a little that I didn't do too terribly. I still think Wolfram was love-at-first-sight-but-I'm-too-racist-to-admit-it-so-I'll-make-him-slap-me-by-being-brattishly-discreet. shrug As I said, I kinda had to win parts of this, but from now, expect him to act his normal self, maybe with the gradual easing up that we see... Three: Yes, for those wondering, Wolfram's wings are gone. Permanently. I know it's rather sudden, but I don't exactly want to turn this into a really long thing. (Yeah, yeah, I'm rushin' I know...) At first I wanted to save that for something climatic, but the thought of permanently stranding Wolf on a world he has no idea about for a fiancée he has no clue what is like...and the conversation to be had when Yuuri finds out...way too tempting. And I'm bad at resisting. Suffer with me. Four: I was also told by my friend that "Free Bird Blues" was just...total Conrad fanservice. XD Was it really? Five: ...I forgot what I wanted here. Oh! I wrote this and the last chapter when I was very tired, and still noticed several typos in the last that I hope I won't repeat again. Such as... boy he road, and other such things. Augh...and misplaced commas, places commas should have been... xx; Six: The last, I promise! I'm aware that Wolf's gender keeps changing here. Keep in mind - Yuuri thinks Wolf's a chick. I tried to keep the paragraphs in his view seeing Wolf as a 'her'. If I accidentally made it during one of Wolf's...sorry. That's entirely my fault. (Of course. Who else could it be?) So...hope you enjoyed.


	4. Chapter 4: Clean Up This Mess NOW!

**A/N: **Uuuhhh...sorry it took so long to update? I've got school and lots of reports to make out and send off. v.v; The life of a high schooler has tackled me down like old man winter, not to mention the lovely distraction of RPing, and the anxiety of the last episode coming out...ah! Spoiler, most sorry! -zips mouth- Well, I hope this works out as funny as I plotted it in my mind... And I'm sorry for the suckof it, but...eh. XD I just kinda...slapped it together when ideas strike me.And, why, yes, I do come up with these titles on a random whim, thank you...

**Disclaimer: **I most certainly do not own Kyou Kara Maou! If I did... -pervy thoughts-

**Chapter 4: Clean Up This Mess NOW!**

Thoughts were racing through his mind as he stared up at the pretty blonde kid who was currently growling in a very homicidal sort of way, using a spare napkin to wipe the remainders of what had once been a very good iced frappucino. The loss of which Yuuri had no _time_ to mourn, because there was the all too abrupt separation between the young King and his heterosexuality to contemplate. _Why would Shouri do this to me? A nasty tempered princess, okay! A not too comely girl, or even a girl like our mother! Those things would be fine! But a BOY!_

Yuuri could think of a million other things he'd rather be engaged to, rather than a boy. Especially a very pretty boy, dressed in girl's clothes, and who looked very much like he was going to kill him. Yuuri had every right to be angry, in his opinion. After all, he was a king. He was a ruler, and he should've had a say in this in the first place! Not only that, but it was unfair to the boy before him - his f-...f-...f-...his...well, the one Shouri said he'd m-...m-...the one in front of him, dammit! - because the way he glared spoke volumes of how irritated he was and how badly Yuuri would surely be killed when the honeymoon came.

Not like there was going to be one, anyway.

And yet, immediately after his outburst and this Wolfram wiped his face clean and angrily tossed the soggy napkin to the side, Yuuri felt all his indignity and disbelief drain a little. Maybe he felt bad for spitting in his face. After all, it was rude, bratty prince or no.

Or perhaps it was just because Yuuri had a strange inkling that if he at least didn't apologize, he wasn't going to be leaving this coffee shop in tact.

"S-sorry..." Slowly, he pulled himself upright, and ducked his head in a fashion similar to a guilty puppy.

The green-eyed prince continued to scowl a bit longer, before he sighed in exasperation and rolled his eyes sassily. Yuuri took this a sign that all was well, and he could rightly jump on the train heading straight for that big river in Africa. "You're joking, though! You've got to be! My brother KNOWS I'm not - well, that I... I don't like boys! Well, friends are fine, but not as - as - as - well, to marry! I mean, after all, its ridiculous and--"

A well-thrown napkin, cold and smelling thickly of mocha hit Yuuri in the face and stopped his rambling.

"I do NOT joke! I'm a Fallen Angel, _wimp_, and I'll have you know I speak only the truth! That...that _man _set us up, along with my own brother!" And Wolfram still felt the sting of betrayal for that.

The harsh reminder of their opposing races - and the wars that went along with such memories - hit Yuuri much harder than a brick. The black-haired boy had the grace to look down a little, but not for the reason Wolfram had assumed. Bad things were happening now, in their original world, and many political reasons weighed on this marriage. For a moment, Yuuri pondered if risking the land for his future love life was worth it. Immediately, he decided it wasn't. If marrying Wolfram _was_ going to bring peace to their lands, he'd do it. And he'd just about decided that he would look the boy in the eye, and tell him that he was fine with it, when a sudden flash and brown hair and a rich voice whispered in his mind. A request, to go through with this not for the sake of duty, but for the sake of the heart.

Wolfram sure had a kind brother, Yuuri surmised a bit belatedly, as he finally lifted his eyes to look at the prince before him. He probably wouldn't mind being engaged to Conrad right about now...

But instead, it was this blonde. This blonde who sat with his back straight, arms crossed stiffly before his narrow chest which was puffed out just a bit as if to emphasize his indignity. And though his head was turned to the side, nose quite high in the air and wavy golden curls tossed back and out of his face for the moment, even Yuuri could notice that the blonde seemed nervous. He was a bit _too_ straight, that just made every occasional shift stick out that much more. That made the way he constantly cracked an emerald eye open and then quickly closed it and tried to play it off as if nothing ever happened by just sniffing in disdain. For a fleeting moment, Yuuri couldn't help but realize the boy really was doing justice to the Fallen Angel race. After all, angels are supposed to be beautiful complete with their own radiance and holy light, right? And even if Wolfram's light was coming in through the window, Yuuri couldn't help but at least admit to himself the boy was stunning like that. For a swift second, Yuuri wondered how Wolfram would look with his wings out. And then it hit him that Wolfram didn't even have them now. Which was odd, as he was sure that Angel could not retract their wings at will. Then he decided, after this mess was cleared, he'd ask Wolfram if he could see the other boy's wings. After all, if Wolfram was this pretty without them, then with them, he would be a positively breath-taking sight.

Not that it'd make Yuuri any more attracted to him, because he just _did not like boys!_

And Wolfram continued to frown; though subtle changes in the boy's features had eventually turned that frown into a pout of disappointment.

Yuuri decided that Wolfram must've disliked him. This marriage wasn't going to work out.

And besides, Yuuri didn't like boys. No matter how pretty. He told himself that several times, before launching quickly into another campaign to convince anyone listening - namely the blonde before him - that this had been a bad idea from the start. No matter that he was trying to get along earlier.

"...And you don't like boys either, right? So why are we engaged? It makes no sense! Why did Shouri do this to meee? I mean, you're pretty true and... And that's another reason why we can't go through this! I mean, think of how I'd feel! Being married to a boy that far cuter than I am! My inferiority complex would grow! You'll get more girls! Hell, you're pretty enough to _be_ a girl and then you'd get more boys! Not like I care but--"

And that was about all that Wolfram could take. The long ramblings, the blonde could tolerate. And though it did frustrate him that Yuuri simply could not pick up on the few hints Wolfram tossed out that he was just the slight bit willing to go through with this - for duty and honor, mind you - it was only further adding to his frustrations when Wolfram _realized_ he wouldn't mind. After all, he was supposed to. Not only was he sullying his bloodline with that of the _demon_ king, but also it was a man and Wolfram...

Well, Wolfram never really swung either way, if he reflected on it. As a child, he'd watched his mother go through men without ever really settling, and seen the hidden loneliness in her eyes. Her boys were her only solace, but work kept her from seeking them, or vice versa. But he knew that his brothers all had different fathers, and all it took was for a little mind power to connect the dots. His mother could never settle, and that was why her marriages failed, or why she left of her own accord. Her feelings were never very strong for the suitors she took, and that was the cause of her pain. Wolfram decided he did not want to suffer in that way, and learned the lesson his mother should've. If ever Wolfram were to find a potential spouse, he'd cling and leech and never let go, letting his passion burn forever. In return, Wolfram decided he wanted everything his mother should've been: complete and utter faith, trust, and undivided love.

Which, was Yuuri continued to ramble on, Wolfram was finding severely lacking in his new fiancé. The boy couldn't even say the word after learning of their engagement, especially when he was the one who seemed to eager for it in the first place! And suddenly, he's rejected? Suddenly, Yuuri decides that everything he seemed to want so badly just wasn't what he was looking for, merely because of gender! Wolfram would not take that sitting. And he most definitely wouldn't take Yuuri's random accusations of cheating - when they weren't even officially a couple in the first place, but let's ignore that detail - not to mention his wild throwing of insults and compliments in a neat little ball.

And so, Wolfram stood up abruptly, causing the chair to clatter noisily to the ground. He didn't care that they seemed to have garnered an audience at this point. Let that hairless freak at the counter or those businessmen stare at them. Wolfram would not stand for this insult. Instead, with one hand in a tight fist at his side, he jabbed his other in Yuuri's direction, a finger pointing accusingly right in his face.

"_CHEATER!_"

And Yuuri promptly shot back, "...eh?"

"You heard me! I said you were a CHEATER! I come all the way here, only to be accused of being too girly and you claiming to have OTHERS on your mind, and get REJECTED! Have you no shame, wimp? Have you no sense of tact, no sense or honor, no nobility running through your filthy blood?" As he talked, the blonde rounded the table, his fist clenching and unclenching, finger still pointed at Yuuri.

Yuuri stared cross-eyed at the digit before him, his mind shutting down completely as the blonde ranted. For a brief second, Yuuri figured people were getting the wrong idea, and opened his mouth to try and calm the blonde down, explain to him they were making a scene and people were definitely not thinking rightly about the two, and they should just talk things out. And by talk things out, he meant he'd bring up more points on why they shouldn't be engaged, Conrad's words most definitely included, and have Wolfram utterly agree with him.

Instead, Wolfram was already standing and coming closer to him. Obsidian eyes lifted, looking up at the pale ones on the face of the angry feminine teen. They sparkled and shone - and though most would've found it rather attractive, Yuuri could only see the murder in them. Wolfram, he concluded, was going to rip him apart and drink his blood. If angels like him did drink blood. He'd rather not find out. And so, Yuuri did the most sensible thing anyone in his position would've done.

He bolted.

Years of training in baseball - his love of the sport having been spurned the moment his father told him about it when he was younger, of his days back when he'd first met their mother on this planet - were starting to pay off. All he had to do was think of this situation as a game in the ninth inning and he wad running home for the last score. And the blonde that yelped the moment he scrambled to his feet and took off, was nothing more than a large baseball, with jaws and viciously sharp teeth gnashing, waiting to devour him if he ever stopped.

If that mental image remained in his head, Yuuri doubted he'd have stopped even when he reached Egypt.

What Yuuri didn't count on was the blonde boy being just as fast and agile as he was. He'd barely made it out the door, the violent chiming of the silver bell at the door's corner more like a death knoll in his ears and startling a very concerned Conrad, when Wolfram was upon him. Pseudo-willowy arms wound their way around his neck, making Yuuri bend backwards painfully, awkwardly, the back of his head knocking into Wolfram's shoulder as the grip tightened. Pressure on his windpipe caused him to gag, and he flailed about helplessly as Wolfram squeezed, as though he were trying to remove Yuuri's head from his neck by sheer force of will.

"Wolfram!" came a shocked cry, and then there was more pressure, causing the clueless boy-king to see bright spots before his eyes, before it gradually gave way. Yuuri quickly snapped up then bent over, coughing and sputtering as he fought to regain his breath. Behind him, he could hear the agitated growls of a familiar voice almost sounding as if restrained and struggling. When Yuuri ventured a look over his shoulder, he saw that Conrad had come to his rescue. The brunette had the blonde by the wrists, bodily placing himself between the killer and his victim. When Yuuri could rightfully breathe, he whirled about and quickly sought to plant himself on the farthest side of Conrad, still a little red, still slightly out of breath, and more than a little sore.

"He's _crazy!"_ Were the first words out of Yuuri's mouth.

Wolfram's heated looks suddenly doubled, and Yuuri found himself eeping and ducking further behind the safety of Conrad. Neither boy noticed that the man seemed far more amused than he rightfully should've been.

"Only when he's passionate about things," came the soft reply.

"Passionate? He's not passionate - he's full on...on...crazy!"

"Shut it, CHEATER!" Wolfram tore his hands from his brother's grip, glaring at the both of them.

How dare that stupid King insult him when _Wolfram_ was the one who should be. After all, the king had toyed with his feelings! _Honor,_ he mentally corrected himself.

And Weller! That bastard was clearly up to something. He could see it in the relaxed way the middle son took to this kind of thing. It was as though he could see through Wolfram, and knew the blonde much more than Wolfram knew himself. And he highly distrusted the fact that Weller had used the word 'passionate' to describe his attitude at the moment. Wolfram damn well knew 'passionate' was just being polite, unless Conrad knew an ulterior motive, one that Wolfram had been battling with himself and...

There was one way to salvage his pride in this situation. To prove to Yuuri that no, he did not have control over him and that no, Conrad was wrong. Wolfram was _not_ what they all thought he was. He was not, did not, could not, would not, absolutely _never_ in...

And that was, of course, to lunge at the boy king. Conrad was once more surprised by the sudden attack and the sheer ferocity in it, and though he could've easily swooped down to stop his younger brother, he made no move to. Merely, he stood as he was, turning slightly to watch with slowly growing amusement, as children did as children normally do. An impromptu game of ring-around-the-Conrad was held as Yuuri yelped with alarm and quickly took off, running around the brunette in an attempt to keep any part of the man between him and his vicious new bride-to-be, who was on his heels and seemed intent on widowing himself at an early age.

"Get BACK here, you sniveling coward!"

"And get KILLED? No way!"

Conrad couldn't help the rich chuckle to escape his throat. "Now, now, let's not spill any blood Wo-"

"CHEATER! I'll show you to humiliate me like this, to think you could do something so heinous as-"

"I did NOTHING! What are you TALKING about? Ack--no, no, don't grab me--yargh!"

A hand had grabbed his wrist, and the grip was strong enough to bruise. In that moment, Yuuri panicked. He was caught, surely, and cornered. If he did not act quickly, he would surely have his head twisted off, and he rather liked it on his shoulders. After all, it was the only head he had. He had to get Wolfram off, now, before something rather life-removing happened to him and--

It was the work of but a moment. A moment full of fear and hilarity, in hindsight. Yuuri's hand had struck like a snake, whipping out whacking the nearest thing that was Wolfram that it could. To Yuuri's quickly dawning horror, as he saw the blonde's head turn to the right abruptly.

_Oh, shit._

Wolfram's head snapped to the side, his skin burning and tingling. The shock from the blow had him stumbling back a little, hand releasing it's hold on Yuuri's wrist, blinking eyes he wasn't aware were full of tears from the sharp pain in his neck and left cheek. When Wolfram reached up to gently touch the red cheek, slowly turning to stare at the offender, bright green eyes met with coal dark ones, which were widened in terror. Wolfram pointed ignored that.

"...Y-Yuuri..." The voice wavered, somewhere between astonishment, disbelief, humiliation, and ah, yes, a slight tinge of elation. Wolfram would not explain why at this moment, even if he'd been threatened to a death of being trampled by a riot.

And Yuuri in response made to open his mouth and protest this. After all, slapping one's left cheek with an open palm was a statement of finality. A claiming kind of gesture, that was treated with the grave solemnity of a funeral. Surely a situation like this, though, there'd be forgiveness and an easy way to wriggle out of tradition? And just as his jaw dropped open, Conrad, who'd been acting as a wall between the two, laughed. He slowly stepped away from his old position, opting to stand to the side and tilt his head a bit as he continued to laugh merrily, shoulders shaking.

This was certainly not how he imagined things would go, but it was certainly close. The fact that he was nearly right, or that it'd happen completely in this way, Conrad wasn't sure which was funnier.

Wolfram blushed. It was hard not to, when your brother was finding so much hilarity in your situation, as well as... Some part of Wolfram felt smug, felt tiny and yet large, felt so completely and utterly filled with rejoice that Yuuri had finally made up his mind. He gave a spare moment to wonder since when had he seen Weller seem so happy in all his life, especially since...

But that gave way to the utter anger when Yuuri immediately tried to protest.

"It--it was-"

Yuuri's voice died on his lips when Conrad's hands gently came to rest on both younger male's shoulders, his laughing tapering off into low chuckles, shoulders and head still shaking. A gentle pressure was applied to them both, before a smile of utter warmness and finality was stamped all over his face.

One Yuuri knew that said, his love life was _over,_ as he knew it.

One Wolfram knew that said, he'd be wearing a lot more skirts and pink. And maybe even, the wedding dress.

All fears were sealed, in six simple words in one dreaded sentence; said with the utmost casuality that it should've been scandalous.

"Congratulations on your engagement, Your Highnesses."


	5. Chapter 5: Of Hearts and Spaghetti

**Disclaimer: **Don't own KKM, or anything to do with it, as much as I weep on the inside. –weeps-

**Warnings:** Extreme OOC, and typos, and things born from being writing all this in one day and being too tired to think properly while writing it. XD; But…I do enjoy the few jokes I sprinkle. Oh, lame angst too. I only put it in because…well, read something that made me go: "OH GNOES ANGST!" …and my imminent doom for pissing off a friend of mine. ; Oh, and this one's a LONG one…

Chapter 5: Of Hearts and Spaghetti 

It was a very uncomfortable feeling, Wolfram decided seconds after the arm plunged into flesh.

He stared numbly down at limb half buried into his own abdomen. The pain wouldn't blossom until later, he supposed, or perhaps by now his nerves were going through enough shock that they'd shut down. He felt blood bubble up in the back of his mouth, watched in fascination as the sanguine liquid soaked the black material of the jacket. The fingers protruding from his lower back flexed, and the blonde felt the motion in his guts. Intestines and muscles shifted with the movement, brushed against the material going through him, and it almost felt like butterflies clawing at his insides. He smiled, wondering briefly where he had that feeling before, but the action came out more as a wince and drops of scarlet poured from his mouth like an endless waterfall.

With a rough jerk, the arm dislodged and came free, leaving the blonde to try and cover the exposing hole through his middle with a hand, to keep the things that were supposed to be inside where they were meant to be. It felt strangely empty without the arm through him, suddenly, like things had been much better during the act of being killed. His body spasmed from the sudden loss, it jerked violently like a puppet on flimsy strings and that was when it hit. Like a tidal wave, the pain overcame him, setting fire to every end, every fiber of his being and he felt like screaming, but his throat was clenched so tight at the moment, not even a gasp could escape. It felt as though he'd been shoved into a scalding hot bath, his skin boiling and peeling away. 

_No_, Wolf realized. Not his skin. This wasn't an exterior pain, he dully acknowledged that. It felt more like his _insides_ were being boiled instead, and that seemed to hurt a lot more than anything did.

Yet the proud angel would not fall.

Even in this state of grave injury, with the smell of his own blood filling his nostrils, the metallic taste stuck in his mouth. The once pristine and eminent wings that burst from his back in a magnificent show of soft down and elegant white feathers stood behind him as a mockery. They remained full, untainted, clear of any blemish, contrasting with the body they remained attached to. Wolfram was sure he looked like hell. Half his face was bruised, an eye swollen over, his blonde hair dull and matted with crusting blood, even more still gushing from his mouth. One arm was twisted a way it shouldn't be, unnaturally, the other cradling his spilling insides like a baby. His legs were scraped - skin and muscles torn apart, exposing glistening bone - and bruised where there still was skin, feeling much like jelly. It was amazing he could still stand, shaking as badly as a newborn colt, and staring up at his killer.

And there the Demon King stood. _Yuuri_, Wolfram corrected himself without a wonder as to why he'd think that. The black haired boy looked neither sadistic nor dishonest. In fact, he looked no different than Wolfram could ever recall him looking. He was sincere, innocent, pure, clean. Well, like his soul - his essence - was still clean, despite the red that clung to his arm - the arm that had just second before been stuck through his body. For a moment, Wolfram didn't think he should be there. Yuuri was still Yuuri, and it was just unusual to see it there...

"Don't demons always do this? That's what you say, anyway," Yuuri spoke softly, with a trace of great remorse in his voice. Like it pained him to admit that Wolfram hated his kind. Claimed to hate. Did he hate?

"You're...the king. You're supposed...to be different," came the reply from cracked pale lips, surprising the blonde with his firm he was, his strongly he sounded as though he truly believed his words.

"Don't say that, Wolfram." Yuuri smiled gently, his eyes still sad, still so pure. Like he didn't want to shove his arm through the blonde.

Wolfram, oddly, found himself bristling at the thought. If he had been given the choice, the prince decided that he would have rather had the king kill him in the same way. He supposed it was because being killed by anyone lesser than his greatest enemy would be an insult to his pride, not because he just liked the thought of being so close to the boy with dark eyes.

"I'll say what I want."

A little bit of happiness came back to the boy who looked so sorry, and Wolfram crumbled. His weakened knees gave away, his body crumpling to the floor, legs gathering beneath him like a bunch of blood-soaked rags. Yuuri did not help him up, did not seem to notice the pain he put him through. It didn't matter, though, because Yuuri's eyes were still so riveted to him, to _only him_ and it made the pain his body was going through seem so tolerable.

"The garden is pretty."

Strangely, the blonde head bobbed up and down without even Wolfram thinking about it. Even though when the blonde glanced around him, peered through the glinting feathers of the wings that tried to block out the world around him, he saw no garden. Fire, forgotten shadows, and the cloying smell of inevitable death. That was what Wolfram saw. A bleak landscape, born of ashes and destruction, and Yuuri had the audacity to call it beautiful. When the blonde closed emerald eyes and breathed in deep, he smelt soot, he smelt his own blood, and he smelt...

_The faint traces of meadows now trampled by soldiers, the underlying hint of spring and rejoice. Mud and blood churned together, orchids blooming in their midst. Orchids and perfume._

It reminded him, painfully and slowly, of the home he'd given up. _Given up..._

That was supposed to ring something, and the image of Yuuri flickered for a moment. Just a moment. And in that moment, Yuuri's expression had changed. Everything had changed. Wolfram still knelt, wings spread out around him and beautiful with his body still beaten and ugly and broken... But no longer was there a gaping hole in his middle but in his chest. Wolfram's own arm was the one covered in blood, pieced of broken chest plate sticking to his blue jacket, and Yuuri's eyes were so wide and boyish and surprised as they reached out to take what Wolfram hadn't noticed was in his hand. The demon took it gently, carefully, as though he were picking up glass and turned what the blonde could only describe as a pulsating mass of red over and over. Around them stood the gardens of home, with its fountains gurgling clear water, fresh grass and new flowers blooming. The sky was the bluest blue, all traces of clouds gone. Wolfram had never seen the day so clear like this, clear like Yuuri's eyes.

"It's for me?"

The prince nodded once, feeling cold air lick at his empty chest. It felt as though a burden had been lifted off his shoulders, as though he'd take off in flight without having to move the great appendages on his back, as though he were light enough to blow away at the softest puff of breath. He'd never felt this peaceful, this comfortable, and briefly, Wolfram wondered if he'd died earlier, and this was just some after life. If so, Wolfram didn't think he minded.

"I can't keep it." That snapped the angel back into reality - or whatever this happened to be - and tilted his head quizzically. Yuuri gazed down at him, cupping the pumping mass between both his hands, looking at the blonde with the saddest eyes he'd ever seen. "I don't know what to do with it. I can't keep it. Please, take it back!"

Wolfram hardened as much as his light body would, lips curving downward into a frown, then a pout. Yuuri was rewarded with a slow shake of his head, and the black-haired boy seemed to just get more distressed, once more begging the blonde to take back what he'd just given. It wasn't until he became fed up with the raven-haired boy and reached out to make sure Yuuri cupped the object firmly that it finally dawned on the blonde what he'd just given away.

A heart. _His_ heart, complete with pumping blood and dangling arteries. It was disgusting, he was sure, and he'd no idea why he'd give such a hideous thing to his newly betrothed. A part of him resented himself for giving it away like this, and an even stronger part of him was angry with Yuuri for not accepting. "Have it." His voice was firm and gravelly, as though he hadn't used it in a thousand years. "When I give you something, you keep it, or you'll insult me. Only wimps give back presents."

This seemed to speak to Yuuri, who then shut up and retracted his hands, clutching the pulsating mass to his chest, almost cuddling it. For a moment, he looked as though he were happy, as though he were pleased and cuddling this new gift. But soon the face fell, became... flustered, became uncomfortable. Slowly, almost as though Yuuri himself were realizing just how truly sick this all was, he placed the heart in his pocket and slowly rose to his feet, tossing the broken doll at his feet a sad smile.

"This wouldn't have worked out. I'll tell Conrad now what we talked about... I'm glad you'll stand alone."

And even though the heart was in Yuuri's pocket, Wolfram felt it shattered properly in his breast as the Demon King turned on a heel and walked out of his line of vision. The blonde managed only a soft whimper at being left so alone, and...

**_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_**

Wolfram groaned with agony at the harsh sound suddenly filling his ears, mind groggy and remnants of his anguished dream being drowned in the foreign noise. He'd never heard a thing like it before, and vaguely wondered who was responsible so he could throttle them quickly. It wasn't until he blinked awake and sat up slowly, that things seemed to clear up. The day, certain events, the _new home_...

What Wolfram had woken to was a room completely unlike his old. He had a new life now, and it was evident in everything around him. The room was as big as his old, yes, but it wasn't a proper room. It was the den of this small cramped house. He had fallen asleep on a couch, the material a soft tan color. Around him were lined cabinets stocked with all sorts of knick-knacks - from porcelain pigs painted with scenes and flowers that any normal pig would be ashamed to have to dolls with faces so white they looked as though the people they had been modeled after had been drained of all their blood. They had long ringlets of blonde hair - nothing like his beautiful mother, and Wolfram found himself smiling a little despite himself - under large frilled bonnets decorated in flowers. Animals of all sorts - dragons as well, he slowly realized with a sort of awe - decked out in funny clothes next to plates depicting legends and books with foreign writing behind glass and wood.

He seemed to be in a spot of the den that was lower than the rest of the floor but only by a step. In front of him was a low table - did they eat at that table? How could they pull off such a feat with such a low table? - and covering the half of it was a sort of crinkled paper, folded over several times. He almost thought it was a map, but he realized it was covered in those foreign words, and figured it was a sort of book. He'd inspect it later. On top of this paper was a strange device of a rectangle shape, and numbers on it that blinked. From it, the blonde realized had came the noise that had woken him. But it was quiet now, and left it alone. In front of the table was a sort of cabinet, this time housing something that looked like a big black box, mostly taken up by a black mirror. It was incredibly strange, especially since it distorted his image that stared back at him and seemed to gray the colors a bit. What kind of mirror did the people in this world use anyway? This was not at all the reality he knew... Yet, using this foreign mirror, he could see behind him, he could see what was on the raised part of the room. He could see a higher table - normal height and he sighed with relief at that - and around it were scattered plain wooden chairs. That would be the dining area that was surrounded by more cabinets full of silverware, plates, and all sorts of culinary along with more fantasy knick-knacks.

And this place was home. The blonde sighed heavily, slowly lowering his head into his hands, propping his elbows on his knees. This was just great. He was stuck on a foreign world, with a fiancé who didn't want him and yet clearly stated he did through ancient customs, with a half-brother he hardly liked, a stoic to-be brother-in-law who seemed to like to glare at him, and his other in-laws were--

**_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_**

The noise startled the blonde so badly he screamed and fell off the couch, landing with a heavy thud on the floor. The mechanical sound kept going even as Wolfram brought himself up and growled threateningly at the object, which continued to deny him by carrying on. The blonde raised an agitated hand to swat at it in a clear bad mood, knowing that should get it to shut up. Sadly, it had no effect and it carried on. With a frustrated huff brought on by a sudden mood worsened by an on-coming headache, he drew himself to his feet and was about to make the object regret that it ever woke Wolfram Von Bielefelt from his dreams and moping when a voice squealed out from behind him.

"Wolf-chan! Awake, already? Oh, it must've been Yuu-chan's clock! We thought you might appreciate an alarm - don't want to sleep through dinner, right? - so we set it up for you and everything! Here, let me show you how to turn it off..." And in a quick flurry of purple skirts and white apron, there stood a figure between Wolfram and his foe, the alarm clock. When it turned around and beamed up at him, the blonde recalled whom the brunette who stood before him was.

His mother-in-law.

"Mother..." He whispered softly, unsure about the name he was suddenly calling the woman, looking slightly hesitant. In Jennifer's eyes, the boy appeared to be everything a new daughter-in-law should be - he was pretty, most definitely, and awkward. He didn't know it, but he hadn't quite carried himself with as much haughtiness as he thought. He'd skittered around things, appeared slightly edgy, and when he learned whom the people were, looked at them with a slight light like he wanted to please them. Jennifer had known instinctively that this blonde was the one that Shouri promised his little brother to - after all, if she'd been given a choice, she'd probably have chosen him too. Of course, she didn't know his temper either, but that didn't matter because a mother always knew what was best.

But that was beside the point. Wolfram looked scared - albeit, putting up a tough front - and Jennifer knew she would have to fit into a part of this boy's life that had suddenly been torn away from him. Since he wasn't an animal and she couldn't get skintimate with him by biting his ear, she had to settle for a smile. "Yes, yes! My, Yuu-chan does have quite the luck getting a pretty fiancé! But, dinner's not ready just yet so..." The woman stepped back a bit, suddenly looking the blushing blonde over before squealing happily again and grabbing Wolf's hands. "Come, help me cook! We can bond and--"

Wolfram hardly had a chance to protest as the woman, still blinking unsurely and blushing deeply dragged him off. The woman was spontaneous, he'd admit, and came off strong. However, he couldn't say comfortably that neither did he, and allowed that part of her personality to slide. Besides, he'd have to get to know her as he'd be living with her, surely to take over her role within time, and he'd best get used to it. Shuffling after the glowing woman into the kitchen, listening to her drone on about how to cook dishes such as 'curry' and 'gyouza' and which ones were Yuuri's favorites (which he seemed to take particular interest in, Miko noticed and Wolfram pretended not to). It took perhaps an hour until Wolfram realized that when she smiled over at him and called him "Wolf-chan", he smiled back a little and replied a little easier, "Yes, Mother."

Life wouldn't be so bad after all. If only Yuuri could learn to live with him, he _JUST_ might get used to this.

Or end up killing Yuuri.

The ride home had been relatively uneventful - well, if whining and complaining and trying to wheedle your way out of a situation where you'd just _accidentally_ engaged yourself to someone of your same gender could be called uneventful. Yuuri had been ye close to getting to his knees before the two demons and simply _groveling_ to be let off the hook by the time they'd all piled into the car, Wolfram vehemently ignoring Yuuri's protests or shouting at him that it had been completely his fault. _His fault?_ He was panicked! He was scared! He was about to DIE! Hadn't Wolfram EVER struck out in a panic before? The blonde was crazy - this whole DAY was crazy! Yuuri was sure this had to be a dream, until Wolfram pinched him when he asked him to, and well... The bruise the pinch left certainly wouldn't let Yuuri forget this.

Conrad had chuckled to the point Wolfram decided if the brunette made one more noise of amusement, he'd strangle his brother - and Wolfram and settled into his role relatively comfortably. Not to say he didn't act petulant and glare at his new husband to be, biting off insults only to rub into the black-haired boy's face how fruitless his protests would be especially after slapping him. Yuuri did not give up arguing, throwing little fits of utter distress when he thought of the explaining he had to do to his parents and the reactions of said parents in-between. They arrived in this jumble of disarray and frayed nerves, Conrad being the only pillar of sanity between the two quarreling boys as he popped open the doors and stepped out.

"We CAN'T do this, you know! It just -- boys! Wolfram, you don't want to get married to a boy, right? _Right?"_

Wolfram harumphed in reply, shoving open the car door on his side roughly and nearly scraping it against the brick wall. Conrad gave a slight cry of dismay, looking faintly concerned, yet remained composed enough to not check on the damage done to the car until Wolfram had stepped out and slammed the door back into place. Yuuri was not oblivious to Conrad's obvious care of the car, and took it upon himself to briefly change the subject.

"Wolfram! This car is borrowed - be more careful!" Yuuri allowed his eyes to trail after the kindest soldier he'd ever met as he checked over the damage, looking worried. "Is it okay?"

Conrad traced his fingers slowly over the door, before sighing in relief and looking over at the anxious boy and giving him a reassuring smile. "Julia's fine."

Yuuri, dull as a rock, blinked at the statement. "That's nice, I guess, but is the car fine?"

Conrad chuckled richly, shaking his head a bit before proudly explaining. "The car's name is Julia. I named it that."

Yuuri blinked a bit in surprise, before smiling awkwardly. "Well, thanks for the ride then, Conrad and...er...Julia. Hey, does that mean we all took a ride in Julia?"

There came a very loud cough from behind him, and Yuuri whirled around to face a strangely red-faced Wolfram, glaring at Yuuri, then turning it to Conrad, then to the car. Yuuri noticed the slight flicker of green as Wolfram lifted his eyes to once more look over to Conrad, and noticed the blonde looked slightly sympathetic for a moment, before he turned on his heel and stormed towards the closest house - luckily (or perhaps, unluckily), it happened to be Yuuri's. When the boy looked back towards Conrad, he couldn't help but feel there was supposed to be some sort of significance in the naming of the car, but he let it slide. "I...I think we should go. This is...this is...Conrad, I can't believe _have_ to do this! I mean, my mother exploded when she learned I was to be engaged - but now she has to learn I'm engaged to a _boy!_"

Conrad chuckled softly as the man moved with a slow sort of grace to be beside the king, and the two slowly made their way to the spot Wolfram was currently standing, with his arms over his chest. "I'm sure she'd understand."

"And that's _exactly_ what I'm afraid of!"

True to word, Jennifer had taken to the idea that her son was engaged to the son of an angel whole-heartedly. Yuuri wasn't sure if he should've been happy that his mother was so flexible, or have prayed to whatever was out there that the aliens return his mother's brain immediately. Miko "Jennifer" Shibuya had swept her golden-haired son-in-law up immediately, talking to him in that swift sort of way that made you dizzy and completely miss the point of the conversation, and even his father made the pass that Yuuri was able to "catch them." No one seemed to notice the black-haired teen seemed a little less than happy that his family was taking to the arrogant blonde, who seemed to look down his nose at his family.

True, he hadn't said a word to them and was already calling them formally by their titles, but Yuuri didn't notice that Wolfram still seemed to be skittish around his parents. Like he didn't want to be near them, as though their blood was too dirty for him. It made Yuuri resentful towards his new 'bride' - which was hardly much of a bride, thankyouverymuch - and he'd taken chance to escape everyone when they all seemed so distracted over cooing over Wolfram. Yuuri had marched right up the stairs, muttering under his breath about how Wolfram was such a selfish brat, and that his parents should know the blonde before deciding he was such hot stuff, and that he didn't like boys! Instinct had him turning when he came to his room, tearing open the door. It was plain, with posters of baseball figures and their stats at the bottom, his desk was cluttered with schoolwork and his little trash bin overflowing with crumpled paper, his dresser clean and.. And beneath his bed was where he went for in a split second, lifting the blue quilt and thrusting a hand blindly underneath to seek out his mitt and baseball.

When he found the items, he took them and went straight for the backyard. He passed his mother, briefly caught the words 'alarm clock' and 'dinner', before he found himself in the den. Well, he had to go through it to get to the sliding door, then the veranda, and if his mother weren't hanging laundry, he'd practice his pitching and catching until the sun went down. Just as he was marching past the portion with the TV and couch, a glint of yellow caught his eye. Slowing his pace, feet no longer stomping on the ground, he turned his face a bit to investigate.

Wolfram.

He should've known.

A frown touched his lips as he came to a halt, face turning into a bitter glare. The blonde lay on the couch, stretched out and looking more comfortable than Yuuri thought he had the right to be one hand tossed across his forehead the other over his stomach. The thought to do something rotten to give him a rude awakening crossed his mind for a moment, before he shook it free. Instead, he decided he'd just turn and go right on past until a groan had him stopping before he even took another step.

Yuuri wasn't sure why, but the sound made his heart race, his palms sweat... and a twang to go off in his chest. When he turned back to look at Wolfram, he noticed the blonde's face - which he had thought so peaceful and angelic - seemed to have a touch of a frown. That perhaps, Wolfram wasn't quite as happy with his dreams as Yuuri had first thought. Another groan came from those pink lips, and Yuuri was sure that the boy sounded distraught. Forgetting he had been angry with the blonde earlier and looking faintly concerned in case the boy was having a nightmare, Yuuri slowly made his way to get a closer look at Wolfram.

He regretted it immediately. The black-haired teen had made it to the couch side before his breath was stolen. Yuuri knew he thought the boy looked every bit angelic and beautiful in the coffee shop, but in slumber, he was beyond that. The gentle rise and fall of his chest making blonde strands brush against the pale column of his neck, lips parted into a delicate 'o', blonde lashes brushing slightly flushed cheeks under a carefully placed, curled hand... Yuuri didn't realize he was blushing nor that he was staring in a smitten sort of way...until he had been smitten in another sort of way.

One moment he was admiring the cutest person sleeping in the cutest way, until the blonde shifted his hips a bit and lashed out with a foot. It connected harshly with his stomach, making him 'oomph' in pain and wheeze, before falling over in a crash. The blonde only wriggled his nose in a distinctly satisfied way, then slurred, "Ohnrii wimps..."

At that point, Yuuri was sure he did not want to marry Wolfram.

"He hurts me even in his sleep! GEEZ!"

A short, soft laugh from beside him made him jump - then wince from the pain that lanced from the kick. In a flash, Conrad was beside him, a hand thrust towards him to help the teen to his feet, smile still plastered onto his face. "Your Majesty."

"Yuuri." The boy corrected, before taking the hand and helping himself. "Ow, ow, ow... Conrad, did you see that? He lashed out at me - and he's _asleep!_ Does he hate me that much, Conrad? I can't live like that!"

Conrad shook his head a bit, smile stuck on his face as he stepped back to allow the venting boy some room. At length, he finally made a reply to the question when it seemed that the boy actually meant it. "No, Yo - Yuuri. Wolfram just tends to be a restless sleeper - especially in times of stress."

"Stress! STRESS? If he wants stress, he should be in my shoes! Finding out you're totally engaged to a _boy_--"

"Isn't he in your shoes?"

Yuuri remained silent after that, thinking over the words. The black-haired teen seemed stubborn to admit that it was true, pout curling his boyish lips and eyes lowering in the telltale signal that he knew he was defeated. Conrad stood, quiet and calm, tame and non-pressing. The brunette waited for the younger male to perhaps admit to something, to say something, or to even merely brush him off and carry on with some other business. Truthfully, Conrad was eager to find out what reaction the king would have to his words. Insolent, in a way, he knew. But so far, the boy-king seemed to have so many strange personality quirks he knew that the boy would find no barbs in his words. Yet that was the way he was used to having his words taken, or to be eaten or shoved away. How would this strange new character act?

"...I guess he is just as stressed as I am, isn't he?"

"I'm sure all newly weds are as stressed as you two."

Yuuri immediately made a face at those words, before waving his arms around and blushing hard. "D-don't say things like that! We're not wedded yet!"

Conrad forced himself to tone down his smile, sneaking away the lack of protest to even being fiancé's. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

"Yuuri."

There remained a few quiet seconds, almost tense. Or it could've been Conrad's mind, his way of thinking and his mind still set back on the way people acted back home - where neutral grounds or even the tents that tended to the wounded were filled with such electricity due to hostilities. He'd just come home from a war, after all. He was unable to shake his experiences from his shoulders, unable to turn off the mode that heightened his senses. Made him see hatred where there probably was none. The boy was relaxed and languid - confused in body posture and face - and yet... And yet he still couldn't help but think that there was just a bit of resentment towards them, towards...

"Conrad?"

"Your Majesty?"

"Can you come outside with me for a bit? Play some catch with me."

"...Catch?"

"... I'll explain it to you. Just...please. I need someone to talk to." Yuuri turned his face up to plead the man with his eyes, giving him a look he'd often give Shouri to get the older Shibuya to loan him those extra few yen for that new bat. It always worked - well, on Shouri anyway - and Yuuri figured he might as well try. Besides, he really did want to ask Conrad some questions, and he felt awkward throwing a ball at a wall and talking to someone at the same time. He might as well involve Conrad in a battery of sorts, and get things off his chest.

Conrad nodded his consent, and Yuuri looked relieved. Moments later, the two had stepped outside into the lengthening day, breathing in crisp air of evening and smog. It felt foreign in Conrad's lungs - as though it didn't belong there. Julia would've laughed at the idea. But Julia didn't exist, did she?

Yuuri explained the fundamentals of playing catch, and Conrad was quick to catch onto the game. It wasn't long until the two had set up a steady rhythm of tossing the white sphere back and forth between each other, hand deftly catching and curling with the motion of the ball, shoulders and arms rolling fluidly with each pitch. It probably was until they hardly needed to concentrate to keep up the steady flow until they began idle conversation, the sky already turning a rosy color.

"Does he really hate us that much?"

Conrad mulled over the words, catching the ball tossed his way and staring into the face across him. It looked saddened a bit, as though the thought of 'he' - Wolfram, he assumed - hating 'us' was of some importance. "Well," Conrad began slowly as his arm whirred back to keep up the battery, "I think if you give him time, this world will grow on him."

Yuuri didn't reply until he caught the ball and rolled it a bit in his palm. "No, not this world. I meant...us. You know. My people. Humans. My family. Does he hate us?"

This caused the soldier to raise his brows slightly. The man couldn't honestly say anything, as he had no idea as to how Wolfram truly felt towards demons and humans. It was true he shot his mouth off about them, but as for true feelings... "In all honesty," he paused to catch the ball Yuuri suddenly released in his direction, torso twisting slightly when the aiming proved to be off by just a bit. "In all honesty, I can't say. But...he was raised in the midst of our courts, during war. He has known nothing but pain, taught nothing but the ideals of others, and not allowed to experience life for himself." A slight smile was given to the king, who kept his eyes glued to his shoes suddenly.

"...I see."

"He is still young. He might learn."

Yuuri sucked in his lip and chewed on it a bit. Wolfram probably did hate everything they stood for - he hated the fact that he was being used as a political pawn to join two courts by marrying someone he cared little for. He was forced into another world full of everything he disliked, and told that for the rest of his life, he'd be here. And suddenly, Yuuri realized that he'd been unfair towards the prince. If he thought he had it stressed, Wolfram's situation was probably a million times worse. If Yuuri's only problem was being engaged to a guy, to Wolfram, it must seem like he was engaged to a million of them.

"Your Majesty...I believe you will change that in him, though."

It sounded much like a prophecy, and it should've frightened him. When the boy looked up from his shoes to stare into the smiling, friendly face of the battle scarred brunette; he could feel the confidence in the half-angel. "You will, won't you? If you can change Wolfram's mind, I'm sure making peace would be a snap for you."

"Peace..." Yuuri repeated the word slowly, as though he'd never heard it before. He seemed to think secret thoughts, his eyes clouding over for once, indecision rearing its ugly head in such open eyes. And then, slowly, he smiled. A bright, beaming smile rivaling the sun and Conrad wondered, suddenly, when had it become so dark on his side of the world.

"I like that idea. Okay, I'll do it. I'll help Wolfram realize we're not so bad and I'll bring peace to our countries."

A ghostly, calm smile was returned to the king. "Indeed. But I'm willing to bet that dinner comes first."

And when they did go in for dinner, Yuuri made another horrifying discovery. Not only did it seem his mother and his bride-to-be had bonded - exceedingly well at that - but also his bride to be could make octopus tentacles that actually writhed out of spaghetti.

**A/N**: Do NOT ask about the Julia and the car thing. I just thought it was so damn funny, that Conrad would name his car Julia, and the many sexual innuendoes that cam come from it. Perverted things easily amuse me, yes, thank you. And…you'll probably find out more about her and the role I've decided for her later on. Yes, yes. Maybe more angst, maybe more comedy, I dunno. We'll see. 'Til next time! (Which due to the painful doom to be extracted on me, may be a while! TT)


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